


sugar, spice, and graduate programs

by ClassyFangirl



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe- Coffee Shop, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassyFangirl/pseuds/ClassyFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt works at a coffee shop. Hermann is studying abroad at MIT. Pumpkin lattes are good for the soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sugar, spice, and graduate programs

**Author's Note:**

> A tumblr prompt fill! Who DOESN'T love a good coffee shop AU, I mean really.

Hermann Gottlieb is studying abroad at MIT for the semester, and he hates it already. It’s been three weeks, and he is sick to death of Americans, football (and not even the _right_ kind of football!), people staring at his cane, and everyone who has looked at him and asked, “Aren’t you a little _young_ to be in grad school?” Yes, he is nineteen, yes, he is working on his doctorate in mathematics, _no,_ he is not too young. He can’t even get a beer because of this country’s damned higher drinking age.

It is out of sheer desperation to get his work done somewhere relatively _quiet_ that he finds himself in the little coffee shop not far from campus. It isn’t busy, and it appears to be populated with studious-minded individuals like himself who very rarely chatter. It’s quiet enough that he can ignore the tinny pop music playing from the overhead speakers. Hermann nods to himself, pleased with his choice, and he goes up to the counter to order something to drink, perhaps some tea.

The young man working the counter, who can’t be any older than Hermann, points at him and says, “ _You_ need a pumpkin latte.” And he immediately moves to the enormous machines and starts working.

“Ah, no,” Hermann says. “I was- I was rather hoping for a cup of green tea-”

“Green tea’s not gonna keep you up, man,” the man says. “You look _exhausted,_ and you’re a grad student if I’ve ever seen one, so what, you’ve got a shitload of work to do? Latte. You’ll thank me later.”

Hermann feels the tiniest tug of pride at being recognized as a graduate student, for once, but he is still rather annoyed with this- this _barista_. “Yes, but I was going to ask for-”

He is handed the cup of coffee, and _Gott,_ it smells delicious. He glares at the barista, and gets a good look at him for the first time- he’s short, with spiky, messy hair, thick-rimmed glasses and a cocky grin. “Well?” the man says. Newt, according to his nametag, handwritten in bright green block letters. “Give it a shot!”

Hermann scowls, but he takes a sip of the coffee, and oh, damn it, it’s good. He nods stiffly at Newt. “Fine. How much?”

“On the house,” Newt says. “‘Cause you’re cute.”

Hermann stiffens, then shakes his head and reaches into his pocket and drops the coins he finds into the tip jar. This only makes Newt’s grin widen, and Hermann has to go sit down before he blushes _too_ much.

Hermann works for hours- he’s got quite a lot to get done, and he wants to get as much of it done as possible. He doesn’t notice the passage of time until someone picks up the empty coffee cup by his hand. He starts suddenly and looks up at Newt’s face. He’s smiling more softly this time.

“Hey. Closing time, man. Hate to kick you out, but.” He shrugs. “Store opens at eight AM tomorrow.”

“Ah- all right. Thank you.”

“ _My_ shift starts at four, though,” Newt adds. “And I mean, the others are great and all, but they’re not half as good at lattes as I am.”

“You think I’d want to come back here _just_ to see you?” Hermann asks.

Newt grins hugely at him. “I never said that. I just said you like my coffee.”

Hermann feels his face heat up _again,_ so he frowns and stands, collecting his books. “Yes, well. Good night, then.”

“Can I get a name?” Newt calls when Hermann’s nearly out the door.

He considers it, then sighs. “Hermann. You can call me Hermann.”

“See you around, Hermann!”

Hermann shakes his head and makes his way back to campus.

 

ooo

 

The next afternoon, when Hermann is done with class and returns to the coffee shop, Newt is looking far less chipper than the day before. “Hey, man,” he says through a yawn. He tries for a rakish grin, but it looks more like a grimace. “I’m making you a mocha.”

“Are you not _capable_ of making tea, or do you just like to aggravate your customers?” But he doesn’t complain any further.

Newt shoots him an amused glance, and this close, Hermann can see the dark bags under his eyes. “ _Mein Gott,_ did you not sleep?” he asks.

Newt sighs and shrugs. “I did. Well, kinda. I’m working on my dissertation and it is _hell_ _on earth,_ ugh. I spent all of today in the lab.”

Hermann’s brow furrows. “Dissertation? How old are you?”

Newt laughs at that. “How old are _you_ , man? _I’m_ eighteen, and despite the grandpa clothes, I don’t think you’re that much older than me.”

“Nineteen. My apologies- admittedly, I didn’t even realize you were a student here.”

“Here I am! I’ll be Doctor Geiszler by the end of the semester.” He frowns deeply. “Unless it kills me first.”

Hermann takes his coffee and pays, but he does not leave the counter. “What are you studying? I’m working on my doctorate in mathematics.”

“Biology. Y’know, the fun stuff.” He waggles his eyebrows and Hermann rolls his eyes. “Now, I don’t wanna shoo you away, but if my boss catches me chatting _too_ much while I’m working, he won’t be very happy with me. Go, go sit down! I go on break in a couple hours.”

Part of Hermann wants to snap that he doesn’t care, but too much of him is honest, so he goes to work with his (disgustingly delicious) coffee, and he does not look up until Newt drops into the seat opposite him three hours later.

“ _God,_ ” Newt sighs. “Y’know what I miss? Free time.”

“You do seem the sort.”

Newt rests his arms on the table and drops his head on them. “I don’t have work tomorrow, so I’m spending literally all day in the lab. God, and here I thought this would be as easy as getting my bachelor’s.”

Hermann smiles slightly- he’s never met anyone else who considers academia _easy_. “I can’t imagine how many people you’ve angered by uttering that sentence.”

“At _least_ twelve.” Newt makes a show of counting on his fingers. “Yeah, probably twelve.”

“Oh, good, I’m so glad you’re keeping track.”

They talk for a while, Newt laughing at Hermann’s almost-jokes, very nearly getting into a heated argument over Pokémon, of all things (“Dude, I will _fight_ you, Charmander is the _best_ starter-”), until Newt glances at the clock on the wall and sighs. “Damn it, I gotta go back to work.”

“Ah- yes, I suppose I really ought to finish this assignment.”

“Right, right.” Newt stands, then pauses. “Hey, uh- I do have a _little_ free time. I’ve got- I’ve got this band? And we’re performing at this bar Sunday night- mostly ‘cause of the football game and they wanna draw people in- anyway, would you...would you wanna come see us?”

Hermann hesitates for a moment before he says, “I suppose I might as well. I expect you’d pout at me until I said yes anyway.”

Newt grins brilliantly at him. “ _Awesome,_ dude. Here, give me your number-” He shuffles in his pockets and hands Hermann a marker. “Just write it down. Right here.” He offers Hermann the underside of his arm.

Hermann shakes his head and Newt laughs as he scrawls his number onto his skin. “There. And you’ll let me know _where_ this magnificent concert of yours will be?”

“Yeah! Now, I gotta get back to work- see ya, dude!”

“See you,” Hermann repeats quietly to Newt’s retreating back.

 

ooo

 

It takes him half a bloody hour to find the damned bar in the North End, but he finds it eventually, and he sees Newt setting up quite a lot of equipment on a small stage in the back corner. Newt glances up and waves at him, but does not come bounding over- he is, after all, rather busy, it seems. Hermann manages to grab a seat close to the stage, which is fortunately far enough away from the rowdy sports fans that he is comfortable.

At five o’clock, the whole band takes the stage. Newt slings a guitar over his shoulder and takes the microphone. “Hellooo, Boston! We are Black Velvet Rabbit- are you ready to _rock_?”

The crowd throws out a distracted cheer, not sounding particularly enthused, but Newt grins anyway and counts off, “One, two, three, four!”

They’re...not particularly good. He thinks Newt’s guitar is decent enough, but the bassist looks drunk and the drummer has no noticeable sense of rhythm. Newt’s singing voice isn’t bad, though- not _beautiful_ by any means, but good for the angry rock sound they’re going for.

And Hermann likes the lyrics, how they move from English to German and back, seamlessly. He didn’t even realize Newt _spoke_ German.

Their audience doesn’t appreciate them. They cheer, but only when their team scores, and not at the end of songs. But Hermann applauds, and he can see Newt smiling at him every time.

When it’s over and Newt and his band members have cleared their equipment, Newt runs over to Hermann and claps a hand to his shoulder. “Hermann! How’d you like the show?”

“You were excellent,” he says. “I...don’t know if I can say the same for the rest of your band.”

Newt laughs at this. “Nah, they suck, but it’s fun! Nothing to make a living out of, but something cool to do on weekends. Come on, come on, I’ll get someone to buy you a drink!”

“That’s hardly-” But it’s too late, Newt has already run off. Hermann watches him chat with a handsome man at the bar. He cocks his head to the side, offers a devastatingly charming smile, and suddenly, it seems Newt has flirted his way into two beers.

Which...oh. Hermann hadn’t really expected that- he’d sort of assumed that first comment of Newt’s was a joke. He’d _hoped_ , certainly- he silently asks any hypothetical god that might be listening to let Newt’s willingness to flirt with men be indicative of his gender preferences.

Newt, smiling, hands Hermann one of the beers. “Drink up, my man! We’ve gotta celebrate our bits of time off while we can.”

“Yes- thank you. Although I’m not sure your methods are morally sound.”

“Pffft. Morals are for scientific integrity, not flirting.” There is a pause and Newt passes his beer bottle from hand to hand. “Speaking of which, um, as you might’ve noticed, I’m kinda...” He gestures at himself vaguely.

“Oh- well, yes. That’s not a problem- I am as well.” Hermann blushes as he says it- he’s never properly “come out”, as they say, to anyone before.

Newt smiles at him. “Awesome. Now we’ve got something else in common!”

They drink, and Hermann’s not sure where they get more beer, but the drinks keep coming and coming until he’s tipsy and laughing at everything Newt says. “‘Cause, ‘cause my mom taught me how to play piano, right,” Newt says, giggling. “And I’d just heard that dumb ‘you can tune a piano, but you can’t tuna fish’ joke, okay, and her English wasn’t so great then, and she just looks at me-” Newt laughs and has to bite his lower lip to calm himself down. “She just looks at me and says, ‘ _Liebling,_ what does dinner have to do with learning your arpeggios?’”

They laugh, and it’s not even that funny, but they are drunk and happy and by god, Hermann’s having _fun_ for the first time since he came to America. He’s in such a pleasant mood he isn’t even surprised when Newt leans across the table and kisses him.

“Is that- is that okay?” Newt asks, sounding a lot more sober than he did a minute ago. “Sorry, sorry if it’s-”

Hermann kisses him again, and it quickly escalates to the point where Newt grabs his hand and drags him out of the building, because they don’t want to be two boys necking in a sports bar in the heart of Italian Boston.

“I’m so glad, man,” Newt breathes against Hermann’s cheek. “I liked you the minute I looked at you- your frumpy clothes, your grouchy face-”

“These don’t sound like compliments,” Hermann says, even though he’s breaking away from sucking a love bite onto Newt’s clavicle to say it.

“Shut up, shut up, they are! You were just- you were just so damn _cute,_ it was killing me. I thought, ‘I’m gonna make that guy the best coffee he’s ever had.’”

“Congratulations,” Hermann chuckles. “You were successful.”

Newt takes Hermann’s face in his hands. “Hermann Gottlieb,” he says. “I wanna make coffee for you for- _forever_. Do you wanna drink my coffee for forever?”

“Yes,” Hermann says immediately. “Yes, I’ll drink your blasted American coffee for as long as you’ll make it for me.”

“Okay,” Newt says. “Good.”

They eventually get a taxi back to MIT, but not before they are both covered in hickeys like a pair of teenagers. Which, Hermann realizes, they technically are.

He decides being young and hormonal is not as awful as he’d assumed.


End file.
